


DLC: The Consequences of the Curious

by RadScavver



Series: The Sole Survivor [6]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Heartbreak, Implied Relationships, Mending friendships, Nuka World Spoilers (mild), Other, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadScavver/pseuds/RadScavver
Summary: When nostalgia strikes, the tale of a cat becomes all too real.





	DLC: The Consequences of the Curious

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This part of the series will have some overlap for later sections. Some things mentioned later may not make sense. There will also be parts of this piece explained in later sections.

It’s been at least a week now. No news from Sturges on the teleporter. None of her companions are sure of their footing right now. All her settlements are thriving, well-protected. The army of various trained wasteland creatures made sure of that. Sher still can’t sleep without nightmares, though.

A crackle.

A familiar tune fading in and out on her pip-boy radio.

Blinking, she gapes down at the device in awe. There’s no way. It couldn’t be...or maybe she shouldn’t be so unsure?

“Cappy? What in the world?”

The signal fades, leaving her stunned. How strange to think….that Nuka World is still up and running.

 

* * *

 

 

Pain. Breaths quick, too harsh in lungs that can’t keep up. Skin tingling as nerves are destroyed. The worst of the hurt blessedly numbed by the severity of her wounds and an almost endless injection of every drug she can find.

Screams, jeers. Bullets rain down from above like hail; they mix with the blood, the spit, the piss. Bright paint and decorations like a kid’s arts-n-crafts project don’t hide the depravity and animal instinct of these raiders. Nor do horrifying metal faces and blood-rusted armor. Relief comes in the form of trapped caverns and buildings. Mirelurks offer a momentary haven to recover shaking limbs, to sweat out a dizzying cocktail of chems. A thought to thank pink hair and dirty freckles. Soft clicks and chitters give her strength, the memory of home. Deep breaths and sprint.

A man with a squirt gun.

A plan.

“The new Overboss!”

Hell is becoming a raider.

  
The lights of the park gleam off her suit. Soft blue and purple practically glow against the hazy sunset. From this high, this tower in the stars, she can see the entire park. Her bloody, broken empire. But she can’t get a signal from the Commonwealth. Are her friends okay? Does the ‘Wealth even exist anymore? She’s long since lost count of how long she’s been trapped in this rat maze nightmare of a land.

Too many days fighting for her life, for favor with sadistic gangs. Balancing psychotic and shrewd and feral. Fantastical beasts, magic ghouls, spirits, a dystopian jungle man, and hopeful visions of a cult spun out too fast. She’s had a lifetime of chrome and alien glow. An eternity of depressing drab brown and too shiny black collars with mocking little red lights. If it weren’t for Gage…

“Hey there, boss. Thought I’d find you up here.”

Speak of the devil, she supposed. Or think of him, anyway. She sighs but turns from the sprawl of a once beloved amusement park. The weathered adviser gives her a snaggle-toothed grin. God, does she hate that rotting smile.

“I think it’s time to spread out into the Commonwealth. C’mon, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

Her heart pounds behind her ribs. For once, it’s a hopeful beat.

 

* * *

 

 

She had so many reasons to be happy:

Freedom.

“You’re no General!”

Her people safe.

“How could you?”

Every settlement accounted for.

“She’s a filthy raider.”

So…

“You ain’t welcome here, murderer!”

Why is it…

“D-Don’t come any closer, or I’ll b-blast you!”

...that no one is happy she is safe?

 

“WHOA! Easy there, Wanderer!”

Whirling around, she aims her 10mm at the intruder. Deacon stands there. Hands up, mouth downturned in such obvious distress it seems unnatural, framed by a door frame she hadn’t crossed in so long. She blinks and her eyes burn.

He inches forward, murmuring at her like she’s a startled radstag, “Hey, hey, look at me. I got ya. Dee’s got ya, boss.”

“DON’T!” Her arms are trembling. The pistol is so heavy. Why? “Don’t.”

“Just...let’s just put that down for now, okay? I mean, I’m a pretty big fan of that quick wit of yours. Really don’t wanna see it splattered all over an old crib.”

That broken rocket taunts her. Husband gone, baby gone. Everyone thinks she’s a monster. Shaun’s mobile dusty and irreparable in a nuclear horror show. Just like she is.

“There we go, yeah, come here. Dee’s gonna take care of you, kid.”

She’s gasping, shaking apart at the seams. Held tight in his arms, she really does feel like a child again. Deacon strokes her hair and rocks them gently despite the thump of his heart under her ear.

“Hell, what happened to you out there, honey?” he whispers.

“I died.”

 

 

She’s staying at HQ. Deacon stays near her constantly unless Des needs him. Then, surprisingly enough, it’s Strong who stays. He’d taken to lingering around the underground base after she’d disappeared, if Glory is to be believed, and acted as a sort of perimeter guard. All she can truly note is that the super mutant has been oddly sympathetic to her situation. He’s put up with her random shaking fits and the nausea that grows when she thinks of how impatient the clans are getting the longer she refuses to contact them. It’s been weeks. She wonders how long it’ll take for them to plan her overthrow.

“Human scared. Need to be strong! Be like super mutant!” Strong chides, thumping a fist against his chest.

For a moment, she remembers being fearless. Times of unhindered, primal joy as they bashed through enemies. Gods of battle for the justice of the Commonwealth.

“You know what?” she laughs. “I think being super mutant is exactly what I need to do.”

She leaves word with Desdemona, asking her not to tell Deacon. When the rebel leader asks, hesitant and worried, the survivor grins. The expression will haunt  
Desdemona’s mind for years.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s done. They’d been at it for hours and hours; she’s taken so many chems she feels that odd detachment she’d felt from the Gauntlet all over again. But...it’s done. Only one loose end to tie up.

“Boss...I...I don’t understand.”

Her suit hisses, Quantum shell blooming to release her blue-clad form, and she steps around it to kneel before him. He’s battered beyond belief. That hideous yellow armor is disgusting, the hue garish under its new sickly crimson glaze. Gazing up at her, Gage is terrified. He flinches away as one pristine hand lifts toward him. She ignores it, pulling his head forward to plant a kiss against his forehead. His breath hitches. Her other hand moves.

With sad eyes, she leans back. Gage’s blood is hot as it rushes over the switchblade embedded in his ribs, leaving her fingers tacky where they clutch around the handle. Mouth moving, voice a wet wheeze, he begs for an answer. Needs one.

“You helped me,” she says, smiling in a way that one could call a strange parody of fondness. “You trusted me, even when I’d lost myself. But you made me what you wanted. I love you, Gage, for being my angel. That’s why you get this. You get to say goodbye.”

There’s naught but a gurgle. Gage’s eye rolls, bulges, and she doesn’t fight the tears as they come. He jerks on her blade; she watches. That much she owes him.

“Why human cry?” Strong growls.

She can hear his hands wring the handle of his super sledge even as she lowers the body down. The blind eye is closed with a sniffle. Then she stands, shaky yet finally confident again, and turns around, seeing Nuka World from her tower among the heavens. Park lights flare, painting her skin in soft ambers and whites. She smiles.

“He watched me die, and helped me be reborn. Who doesn’t cry when their father dies?”

 

* * *

 

 

Word spreads in due time. Settlements are eager to see her return, but it’s a greedy excitement that vanishes when she claims the newly freed park for the slaves she’d saved. It’s irritating beyond belief. Regardless, the absolute annihilation of so many raiders by but two warriors rocks the ‘Wealth to its core.

Deacon is furious with her, only losing some of his anger when Strong gets involved. The pair of agents are back to their usual closeness within a week. Her other companions are slow to filter back to her. She hates them. Hancock and MacCready had returned to Goodneighbor. They haven’t reached out to her, and she’s avoided the town since her first return. The hate is sharp and painful. It feels too much like when she’d lost Nate. Cait finds her at Bunker Hill when she’d stopped to rest after a drop-off, nearly a month after Nuka World’s cleansing. The two had reconnected by brawling in a freshly cleared out drug den. With her usual gruffness, the fighter had berated her for vanishing but welcomed her back all at once. Cait then invited her out for a drink. That night, Curie had arrived with Dogmeat, both having been accompanying a caravan from Vault 81. The two women lose themselves in each other long before the drinks are done. She leaves with her furry friend at her side, and two friends returned to her inner circle.

She misses them all.

Piper wrangles her for a dinner at Power Noodles. Nick hands her a casefile and laughs off her absence because he’s done himself often enough. Codsworth surprises her one day at her new home up near Salem. The bot scolds her for not bringing him along, even as Rads frantically tries to soothe startled creatures in the background. Danse runs into her on a patrol, then whisks her off to the Prydwen for a celebration of her “victorious exploration into raider territory.” Elder Maxson even praises her for her slaughter of the scum, promoting her to Paladin before dozens of cheering Brotherhood soldiers.

She never hears from the Minutemen.


End file.
